


Vignettes

by Disherona



Category: Monk (TV)
Genre: Arguement, Character Study, Death, Decisions, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Short Stories, Understanding, Vignette, emotional hurt comfort, freinds - Freeform, misudnerstanding, monk - Freeform, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4745705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disherona/pseuds/Disherona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short stories featuring Randy Disher and Sharona Fleming with appearances by other Monk characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sketch

Sharona sat with her feet tucked under her, on the comfy sofa in Randy Disher's living room. From a cabinet, she pulled one of Randy's journals from 2002 and perused it as soft music played in on the stereo mingled with the gentle snoring from not too far away. The lights were low, except for a reading lamp on her side of the sofa.

2002 was the year of the eagle according to the illustrated cover. Many of the drawings which decorated the white cover of the blank book seemed patriotic, but it was written during the time period when patriotism ran rampant.

As Sharona read through the journal, Randy snoozed on the couch looking adorable in a t-shirt and jeans. It had been a long day, and he had had a satisfying and filling brunch, so he embraced this nap time.

Sharona found an illustration of herself in the journal. She was carrying a mutt, wearing a red miniskirt, pink blouse, a black jacket with leather strings hanging from the waist, and knee length boots. It was fairly detailed sketch and a good representation of her and the moment. Her hair was drawn with exaggerated curls. Her skirt was extra short, her her legs extra long and her derriere a little rounder than in real life.

The middle of the same page, was taken up with a sketch of Adrian Monk, comically balancing on a sundial. It was more of a gesture drawing with basic color washes, and took up a two by two inch area of the middle of the page. The handwritten notes on the pages had nothing to do with the case, from what Sharona could remember or any of the people involved. They were completely random, except something pertaining to the idea that Captain Stottlemeyer might be going off the rails, which was understandable given the circumstances.

"These are good," Sharona remarked, not knowing if Randy were too fast asleep to hear her.

He wasn't. "What?" He mumbled, sitting up and moving to the other side of the couch to cuddle.

"These drawings are good. Did you take art lessons?

"Um, yeah. I took some classes in high school. I just sketch what I see or remember from the day." He rubbed his eyes, and picked up a mug of coffee from before he had fallen asleep. He took a sip of stone cold, sweet and creamy coffee.

"I love this one." Sharona said, going through the book a bit more, and finding a fairly detailed drawing of Adrian whispering something to Sharona, a portion of his face buried in her exaggerated curls. She could make out tables around them, seemingly in the distance, and the facade of a restaurant. It was the circus case, she remembered. "I hated that case, though. Adrian telling me to suck it up...and the elephant trainer's head." She closed her eyes, as the sight of man's head being crushed flashed in her mind.

As she flipped through the pages, seeing multiple illustrations of Adrian and Sharona, the Captain and sometimes just pretty bystanders, and things that caught his eye.

"So, how did you and Monk first get together?" Randy asked, taking another sip of the cold coffee.

"Captain Stottlemeyer asked my supervisor if they had anyone who might be interested in a practical nursing job. I checked it out. To be honest, none of the other nurses would touch it. My supervisor recommended me, and eventually I took the job."

"But, you were a registered nurse at the time. You quit that job to help someone clean the house and take his pulse?"

"Not quite. There was more to it. It had everything to do with Adrian Monk." A reminiscent smile crossed her lips. "I remember the first time I saw him. Stottlemeyer told me about him, and about the Trudy case. He drove me to the apartment to meet him, and I remember the apartment - It wasn't messy, but it had been neglected. Like no one cared. It was dark and it had this heaviness to it. I almost felt like I couldn't breath.

"So, the Captain and I went inside. Adrian was very still. The Captain greeted him. The Captain was friendly but seemed uncomfortable, I guess. And Adrian was so quiet. He was sitting on his couch, in his pajamas and some slippers. And there were these newspapers, still rolled up in a neat pyramid near the coffee table.

"And he had sad eyes. It was his eyes, the way he held himself, his hopelessness that drew me to him. We talked about why I was there, and he just sort of quietly accepted it. I don't think he felt like he had any choices. I could tell he needed something, and I thought he needed me, so I came back the next day. And the day after. And the day after that."

"I worked both jobs for a few months, and I decided Adrian needed me more than the hospital did, so I quit. Benjy needed to spend a little bit of time with his mom so I gradually made Benjy part of Adrian's life, too. Over time, he began to interact with me, and once he stopped being so nervous, with Benjy."

Sharona rested her head on Randy's shoulder and continued.

"I loved him. He was like family, you know. Not perfect, but you love them anyway. Adrian could be mean. He could be a jerk. He could be unreasonable and impossible, but when he talked about Trudy, he changed. His face changed. His demeanor changed. I knew he loved her, still. After all those years. Especially after her death. It was incredible. I didn't easily trust men. I think Adrian was the first man I trusted after Trevor, because it was the first time I'd ever seen a man could love a woman so completely, that even death wouldn't stop it. Adrian's love for Trudy gave me hope that there were still good men out there," she said, taking his hand in hers.

"Anyway, after working with him for some time, and seeing how he responded to Trudy and her murder, I felt like maybe it was something he could strive for. We discussed how he would feel about helping other victims and he responded well to the idea. It would challenge him to go outside and do things he didn't think he could do if he were holed up in his little apartment with his nurse. This would make him take steps out into the real world.

"One afternoon, after Adrian had made some progress, we talked to the Police Commissioner, and he said he would consider it. I had to promise the Commissioner that I would be with him at all times, when he was on a case. I had to to keep him focused and make sure he didn't break down again. And the Commissioner said that when Adrian was able, they might consider him for consulting work. I never really knew if he could solve that case, and I never expected to be his assistant, but it happened.

Randy sat speechless for a few moments, admiring the woman he had come to love. Then Randy got an idea. "Don't move."

He went to his desk and pulled out his 2009 journal and a pen, adjusted the lamp to light Sharona better, and sat on the end of the couch, peering over the book, and began to sketch her portrait of an amazing woman.

The End.

A/N The Vignette series is something I plan to supplement my fanfic while I am working on my new story. I will continue to write these. If you would like a specific vignette, please leave a response saying what you want to see in the reviews section. PLEASE REVIEW.

A/N The sketch journal was brought up in Hy Conrad's "Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant". I love the idea, and plan to run with it wherever I am able.


	2. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy comes home late, with some news. (Set after Mr. Monk and the End Pt. 2)

Sharona had fallen asleep reading a novel called "Face of Evil". She nestled into the pillows on the other side of the bed, her iPad under her left hand.

"Sharona?" She heard a familiar whisper, and woke up, disoriented, even after Randy turned on the bedroom light.

"What time is it?" She asked, sitting up and adjusting her pink, polo sleepshirt with a yawn.

Randy Disher, the police chief of Summit, New Jersey was locking his gun in a lock box and putting in up on the top shelf of his closet, and then sat on the foot of the bed and removed his shoes.

"Two," He yawned.

"Two?" She asked, wondering if she heard correctly.

Randy checked his watch. "Almost two," he amended.

"I texted you, and you didn't answer," her face showed concern. "You've never done that before."

"Sorry. Something happened." He said as he undressed for bed.

A feeling of dread came over Sharona, "What happened?"

"A bookkeeper for the city came to my office this morning. I mean, yesterday morning." he corrected himself. "He said he wanted to meet with me. I think he was recently hired, and is from out of town, like me."

"Okay.' Sharona said, bracing herself.

"We met in my office after my shift was over." He started. "He said he had some information about the local government officials which would be damaging to the city."

"What kind of information?" Sharona asked, not knowing if she wanted to know - or even if she was allowed that information.

"It involves the mayor, and maybe some other government officials and a lot of money." He turned and looked her in the eyes. "A. Lot. Of. Money. More money than I can wrap my mind around. And it's been going on for a while. "

"Oh my gawd." Sharona said.

"After the meeting with the bookkeeper, we had an emergency meeting with the DA from Trenton, and there's going to be an investigation, and more than likely, an in depth audit of pretty much everyone with any connection to Summit city government."

Randy went into the bathroom to wash his face, and then crawled into bed beside the woman he loved. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"I'm pretty sure I'll have to talk to the press when this whole thing blows up. I feel like I might be in over my head," he confessed as Sharona snuggled next to him and he wrapped his arms around her. "It's going to hit the papers, then it's going to hit the fans."

"Fans? As in more than one fan?" She snickered, then she looked into his eyes and gave him a little kiss, when he didn't share in the humor.

"You haven't seen the numbers, or the people involved. There will be several fans. Some of them will be oscillating. " He sighed, and held her closer, "Sharona, I'm not Captain Stottlemeyer. I'm in way over my head,"

"You did the right thing. and I'm proud of you. Randy, this is why you're here. You're an honest person. You're capable of handling this, and you know that I love you."

A look of doubt crossed his face. Randy was not sure if Sharona should put so much trust in him. The only thing he knew is true was when she said she loved him. The rest, he doubted about himself.

That, however, was for tomorrow. Tonight, in the comfort of his lover's arms, he drifted off to sleep.

The End.

Please review. Fanfic prompts welcome.


	3. Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy just wants to spend more time with Sharona.

When Sharona woke up early Saturday morning, she found Randy sleeping face down in a pillow on top of the covers. He was half dressed, and laid with his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. He had been working double shifts, filling in for an officer who was on his honeymoon for almost two weeks.

Randy finally took a day off, after Evie offered to fill in for him for the day to give him some much needed rest. Sharona had two clients to see in the mid-afternoon, so she let Randy sleep in. After throwing a quilt over him, she went to putter around the house. She cleaned up the dishes that Randy had left in the sink when he came home sometime earlier in the morning. She started a load of laundry then changed into a pair of work jeans and sneakers. She donned one of Randy's old cast off flannel shirts, rolled up the sleeves, and went out into the backyard.

She put on some gardening music, in this case The Eagles, Desperado album, at a moderate volume and went to work. It was therapeutic for her to grow lovely things. Sharona loved the feeling of soil between her fingers. Gardening was one of her favorite pastimes, and was one of the reasons she talked Randy into renting a house instead of an apartment, which would have been more economical. She grew decorative flowers. and also tomatoes and asparagus, because those were veggies that both Randy and Benjy liked.

Sharona heard the back door open, as she wiped a loose curl away from her face with her gloved hand. She turned to see Randy sitting on the edge of the deck with a glass of orange juice in his hand, looking scruffy and disheveled. "G'mrning" He mumbled, not quite awake. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I thought you might want to sleep in." Sharona said, "Hand me the snips."

He looked in the gardening tool box, and pulled out pruning shears. "I can sleep any time."

"Like those, but smaller."

He looked again, pulling out the right tool this time, and handed it over to her.

"Do you want to go out to breakfast?" He asked as he watched her work. He thought she was cute when she was a little dirty. She snipped off some twigs and pulled some dead leaves away from her flowers, then scrutinized her work.

"Sure. Let me get cleaned up and change," she answered, gathering up the gardening supplies she had used and putting them away. As she walked by, he stopped her and gathered her into his arms and gave her a long kiss. "Good morning."

After they both washed up and changed in to casual clothes, they walked to a popular neighborhood restaurant. They shared eggs and pancakes, fruit and coffee. While they were there, they talked to some of their new neighbors and introduced themselves to the ones they hadn't met yet. The breakfast was filling and tasty and they enjoyed each other's company and conversation with their new friends.

After breakfast they went for a long walk in the crisp morning air and explored new areas in the neighborhood before returning to their home.

They sat on the sofa together, contented. Well, mostly contented. "So...What should we do now?" Sharona asked as she interlaced her fingers with his.

"Take a nap." Randy answered, decisively.

"You mean go to bed? It's not even noon."

"Well, in a way. We haven't gone to bed at the same time since we moved here. I just want to go to bed at the same time as you."

"Really?" She said as she scrunched her nose, smiled and looked into his eyes. "You wanna take a nap with me."

"I miss you. I miss snuggling with you, and saying goodnight to you. You don't even have to go to sleep. I just want to get into bed at the same time as you."

Sharona could see in his eyes and hear in his voice how much he missed her, and it touched her heart.

"Are you tired?"

"Nope. I just want to lay in bed with you and talk."

They went upstairs, hand in hand. Sharona noticed that Randy had remade the bed after he had gotten up. They made a little nest of pillows, and Sharona unfolded a soft, white quilt on the end of the bed. Then they nested, laying on top of the covers. Sharona pulled a throw blanket up around them, and they lay in each others arms.

"Love you." Sharona said.

"Love you, too." Randy returned.

They talked for about a half hour about the things they hadn't had the chance to talk about, until Randy slowly drifted off to sleep.

The End

Please Review. I will consider suggestions, if you have them.


	4. Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy Disher interferes with Family Business. Benjy and Trevor Howe appear.

Trevor Howe appeared at the front door of the Summit, New Jersey home shared by the city's Police Chief Randy Disher and Sharona Fleming, who worked as a private nurse to several of the town's residents.

Sharona had been running late and rushed through the door in time to see Randy as he placed the dinners final preparation onto a serving plate and put the serving utensils on the side. He handed the plate over to Benjy Fleming-Howe, her 18 year old son, who placed it onto dining room table. She shrugged out of her coat, and hung it on a coatrack in the doorway. Sharona met Randy in the kitchen and they shared a brief kiss in the kitchen.

Benjy had invited his father to dinner. Trevor had come earlier, to spend a little time with Benjy before dinner. It was the first time Sharona had seen Trevor since she had moved to Summit with Randy. Benjy and Trevor looked quite a lot a like, when you stood them next to each other. Benjy was tall, lanky and had thick dark hair that he liked to wear spiked up. Trevor had aged a bit, but was still muscular. His hair had begun to turn salt and pepper at the temples, and he still had a very charming smile, which Benjy learned that he could manage when he wanted to get his way.

It was Randy's turn to make dinner, so he made baked pork chops, Syracuse potatoes with melted butter and thyme and asparagus. "Dinner's ready." Randy called from the kitchen.

"Good," Sharona said, under her breath to Randy.

They gathered around and took their places around the table. Sharona sat next to Randy, who sat next to Benjy, who sat next to Trevor.

They all drank mineral water or fruit juice in observation of Trevor's sobriety, which he was proud of. He did not have a drink in almost 8 years.

"So, why the family gathering?" Trevor asked, as they passed around the plates of food.

"It was Benjy's idea," Sharona admitted.

"So, what's up Benj?" his father asked.

"I wanted to let everyone know that I'm not going to start college in the fall." Benjy announced to his shocked parents.

"What?! Why not?" Trevor demanded.

"You've been accepted. Everything is all ready to go." Sharona added.

"I still want to go to school, I just want to travel with some friends in Europe. Experience other cultures." He smiled his charming smile.

"How do you plan to do this? Where do you think the money going to come from?" Sharona asked.

"I've been working and saving." He began.

"I see you are still having trouble with math. That's not going to cover a trip to Europe. It's not even close."

"I was thinking that I could cover some of it and maybe you and dad will help with the rest."

"From where, Benjy? I don't have the money to pay for a trip to Europe."

"Neither do I. Sorry Benj."

The young man glanced at Randy, just for a moment, and and then cut a piece of pork chop. "What about the settlement money?

"That's for college." Sharona reminded him, gently.

"You said it was for my education. There's enough for both, isn't there?" He looked at Randy again, who gave a quick nod and then dropped his gaze to his dinner plate, "and travel can be a kind of education."

"Why do you keep looking at Randy?" Sharona asked. "Randy, did you put him up to this?"

"I was a sounding board and now I'm a cook slash innocent bystander."

Sharona glared at Randy, and Trevor chimed in, "Try being a silent bystander. Even if your mom can pay for the trip, Benj, I don't have that kind of money."

"You can help," Sharona countered. "I had to give Benjy things I couldn't afford."

"Not this again." Trevor muttered.

"Yes, this again, Trevor!" Sharona countered, her voice rising and her Jersey accent thickening with each word. "You have no idea how many times I've had to pay for things for Benjy with no help!"

"I think" Randy said, hoping to be the voice of calm and reason in the discussion, "that the conversation is getting a little off target, maybe we should bring it back to the subject."

"Who asked you?" Trevor muttered, rolling his eyes,

Sharona touched his hand, "Randy, please. This is a family matter."

Randy looked hurt for a moment, and then recovered himself. "Okay." He picked up his plate and excused himself from the dinner table. Sharona watched him, wishing she hadn't responded the way she did as he went to his man-cave and closed the door behind him.

Benjy pulled various papers from the ledge of an antiqued china hutch and discussed the research he had done, as well as what was in the savings account, after his automobile expenses. He pointed out what he would need to earn in order to go for 3 months, and how much he thought his parents might be able to put towards the trip. He also told him what his planned itinerary was, and what he would do in case of emergency such as sickness or an unintended run-in with the law in a foreign country.

Sharona and Trevor were both impressed with Benjy's presentation and they both agreed to think about it.

-RS-

It was more than an hour later when Sharona found Randy in his man cave, a converted den where Randy went to when he needed space, privacy, or when he wanted to hang out with the guys. As the police chief in the small town of Summit, New Jersey, there were very few "guys" he was comfortable really hanging out with. Occasionally Randy wished for the less responsible and more fun garage band days of his time as a lieutenant in a larger police station and a bigger city. There was less scrutiny and less need to keep up the decorum that his high profile job in a small town required. Sometimes he just wanted to hang out in his boxer shorts, drink beer and be manly on the weekend.

Randy had heard some of the discussion that had taken place in the dining room, but put on a Sopranos dvd so that he could cover over the sound of their voices, ignoring them petulantly, as he sipped a beer he had take from the mini-fridge and finished his dinner.

Sharona usually did not enter this space. It was Randy's to keep the way he liked it. He could put whatever manly things he wanted to in it, and keep it as clean or cluttered as he liked. Benjy had an area like that - a mudroom which had been converted into an art/design studio that looked onto the back yard. Sharona considered the garden to be her space, and the men in her life respected it.

Sharona sat on the big leather sofa that took up most of one wall, without a word. She sat close to Randy with her feet under her. He focused on the television. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" He sipped his beer.

"You left kinda suddenly." Sharona stroked his hair, absentmindedly.

"Well, I guess I wasn't needed. How did it go?"

"We're both thinking about it. Benjy has to work and save some more and we'll talk about it later."

"Good. Is Trevor going to help?"

"He's going to work it out. I think he really wants to. He just never thought about how he could help." Randy handed her the bottle of beer and she had a sip. "Thanks for being in Benjy's corner. I think he appreciated having you on his side."

"But I shouldn't have butted in. It's your family's business."

"We're a family."

"You know what I mean. I crossed a line, and I was thinking that things like this wouldn't happen if we were talking about our own children."

"Our children? Aren't you happy with just us?"

"Well, of course I am. I love you, and Ben is a great kid, but he's practically an adult. And I had nothing to do with raising him." He gathered Sharona in his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I just feel like I want a family of my own someday. A wife and kids, and a great place to live."

"How many kids are you expecting to have?" Sharona asked.

"Between 2 and two dozen." Randy answered. "Keep in mind, those numbers are off the top of my head. I think I'd be a good dad, and I know you're a great mother. I want to do dad things with my own kids; I want to play catch with them, take them fishing, teach them to ride a bikes. I want to tell them how hard it was for me in my day. I want to tell them I had to walk 10 miles each way in the snow to get to school, and I want to spoil their dinner with ice cream. I want to tell them I'm proud of them. I want to tuck them into bed, and wake them up in the morning with tickle monsters, and I want them to see what a great life looks like. "

"Wow. You've really been thinking about this," Sharona said, disconcerted.

Randy nodded.

"I understand what you're feeling buy I've done all of that, Randy. I did it on my own. I had to do it alone, because I didn't have a choice. I was hoping for a little bit of freedom when I get older. I want to travel, too. I want to be able to come and go, just the two of us, after Benjy get settled in his life."

"You won't have to raise our child on your own. I'll be here. We're partners."

"I've heard it before." Sharona said, softly, enjoying being close to Randy, but hating where the conversation was going. "You know what happened with Trevor. We were supposed to be together, forever. Then Benjy came along and he was gone."

"Sharona, what your ex put you through was cruel and unfair," He paused. and took a deep breath before continuing. "and to be honest, that excuse is getting old. We've been a couple for 18 months and we've been living together for 9 months. I want to marry you someday. I want to be with you now, and forever. I'm not Trevor. If I do something that reminds you of him, please let me know and I will change.' Randy touched her jaw gently with his forefinger, and positioned her face so that they were looking into each others eyes, " but don't use him, or what he did, as an excuse to shut me up. Especially about the things I care about."

Sharona pulled away from Randy and looked at him as if she had been slapped. Randy braced himself for an argument, or tears or to be sworn at and left to be alone with The Sopranos, which played muted in the background. What Randy said stung, like a bandaid being pulled off. She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it when she realized that what he had said was true. She was unintentionally using Trevor to keep herself buffered from being hurt by a man she cared deeply for. Before she could answer, Randy continued.

"That being said, I, Randy Disher, am telling you that I'll always be here, with you and for you. "

"I know that, Randy, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Sharona said as she pulled him into a hug.

"I know." He pulled away from her and looked into her face with a hopeful expression. "Would you be open to something less permanent."

She looked at Randy, quizzically. "What do you have in mind?"

"Fostering. I've been looking into it."

The End

Please review.


	5. Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy explains to Monk and Natalie how he injured himself. This story takes place after Mr. Monk and the New Lieutenant.

Sharona Fleming opened the door to the new home she shared with Lt. Randy Disher, to find Natalie Teeger, and her business partner Adrian Monk beside her.

"How is he?" Natalie asked, with genuine concern in her voice. "The Captain said he went to the hospital and hasn't been back to work."

"He's resting. It's nothing too serious." Sharona informed them as she ushered them into the small house. "Come in. He'll be glad of the company."

"What happened?" Adrian Monk asked.

"Didn't the Captain tell you?" Sharona asked.

"No. No one would tell us anything."

"Why don't you tell them, Randy," Sharona asked Randy Disher, who rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"We brought these for you." Natalie said, indicating a basket in her arms, which were filled with fresh fruit, snacks, teas and an iTunes card. Monk held a large, wrapped box. No one in the room needed to open it to know what was inside. Wipes.

According to Adrian Monk, hand wipes were not only a perfect gift for everyone, but was also the gift that keeps on giving. Everyone in Monk's life had assumed that birthdays, holidays and any gift giving occasion would be blessed by a big, neatly wrapped box of hand wipes for germ killing pleasure.

Randy thanked them both for their thoughtfulness, as they put the gifts on a table behind the couch he was resting on.

"Okay, tell us what happened," Natalie prodded as she and Adrian perched on an ottoman a conversational distance from Randy.

"Do I have to?" Randy asked.

Sharona smiled, and gave an authoritative "Yes", as she checked the bandage around his foot and ankle before placing a fresh ice pack on top of it.

"We hired a new Sergeant, a transfer from Washington state, who has been working with me full time, pretty much since we came back to San Francisco. We made an arrest on a murder in the Mission District - a couple of vicious kids. They stabbed an old guy to death in his house, and beat his caretaker. Anyway, one of the suspects, wasn't secured and took off and I had to chase him on foot. The suspect ran through busy traffic, jumped a fence, and he tried to tip garbage cans in my path. I chased him up a fire escape and I finally cornered him on the roof of a 4 story apartment building on 5th and Leister and I practically had to drag him down the ladder before he was arrested."

"So, when did you sprain your ankle?" Natalie asked, confused.

"I was calling Sharona to tell her what happened. I was so excited I wasn't paying attention to where I was, and I stepped off the curb wrong. I twisted my ankle and I broke my phone."

"Aww, poor baby." Natalie smirked, holding back a giggle.

"Was that the Macadden apartment building?" Monk asked.

"Yeah."

"I've been complaining about those curbs for months. Very uneven." Monk said, indicating with his hands how unlevel the grounds were.

"Well, I'm more concerned about Randy being more careful, than about the city sidewalks. What if it wasn't just a curb. What if he stepped in front of a truck or something." Sharona said, reprimanding Randy.

"Well, I didn't. And I won't."

"You better not. I have to get back to work. What are you going to do?" She said, crouching to look him in the eyes.

"Cyborg Zombies marathon…" He began, as if he were going to plan out his day.

"You are going to keep that foot elevated." Sharona instructed him. "Stay off of it. Keep an ice pack on it - there are more in the cooler. If you have to get up, use your crutches and don't put any weight on your ankle. You have your pain medication, snacks, your iPad," she said, as she touched each object"... Do you need anything?"

Randy just shook his head. "No. Sorry I had to drag you away from work."

"You didn't drag me anywhere. I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said giving him a little kiss. "I'll be home around 6 with dinner, but I'll try to see if someone will relieve me early tonight. What do you want?"

Randy shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever your want."

"Do you two want to join us for dinner?" Sharona asked Monk and Natalie.

She hadn't spent much time with either of them since they moved back to San Francisco, because of their schedules, and the fact that Monk and Teeger had been picking up quite a lot of business lately.

Adrian Monk fidgeted before he croaked out "Well, I don't think..." Indicating that he would rather not, but Natalie chimed in, saying, "We'd love to," after which, Monk echoed Natalie's sentiment.

"Okay, we'll be expecting you." As Sharona left the apartment, she heard Natalie ask "So, Cyborg Zombies - is it any good."

"Not much of a plot to speak of, but there's unnecessary swearing, sex and violence. so it's interesting in that respect." Randy offered. "The cyborg zombie dogs are the coolest thing..."

The End.


	6. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Randy and Sharona met.

Randy heard a ruckus in the break room from his desk. He heard her nasal voice, with the thick Jersey accent, raised to a mid-level screech as she swore at the snack machine. Then she kicked the bottom of the machine with patent leather high heel boots that encased a dainty foot, and a spectacular leg that went all the way to her neck. She had long wavy honey brown hair, which was pulled back into a loose bun and her blouse was low cut and her skirt was short.

"Can I help you?" Randy asked.

"The damn machine stole my nuts!" She said as she slapped at the face of the machine, not doing any damage to it, but attracting the attention of police officers and criminals alike.

"Sometimes it's a little persnickety." Randy Disher advised her while positioning himself between the woman and the machine before she made another attempt to attack the inanimate object. He pushed the change return button and her coins came clattering down. He scooped out the change and held it in his hand. "Here's your problem. There's a Canadian hiding in there." he said, holding the offending coin up for inspection, before returning it to the woman.

"Oh," She smiled at him, her lips painted bright, but attractive red. "Thanks."

"Lieutenant Disher."

"Thank you Lieutenant. I'm Sharona Fleming." She said, as she checked her purse for more change.

"Can I treat you? "

"Thanks. I wouldn't usually, but I worked a double shift and haven't had anything to eat for ages and i gave Benjy all my change."

"So, what brings you to the station." Randy asked, inserting coins into the snack machine and letting Sharona make her selection. "I'm assuming you didn't get caught with your hand in a cookie jar or anything. "

"I'm here to talk to Captain Stoddermeyer about a job. "

He looked over to his new Captain's office and saw that he was on the phone in an animated conversation.

He poured the woman a cup of hot coffee from the community pot, and handed it to her before leading her to a chair at his new desk. "It's Stottlemeyer, actually." He informed her.

"Thanks. And for the nuts, too." She opened a package of dry roasted nuts and popped a few in her mouth. She offered him some of the nuts, too, but he declined. "Sorry, I'm starving. I was so rushed, I didn't even get a break."

"Are you the new girl working undercover in vice?" Rand asked.

"Excuse me?" The smiled disappeared from her face and her cheeks turned crimson. She leaned towards "I'm here to talk to Captain Stottlemeyer about a nursing job for another police officer. I'm a nurse."

"Oh." Randy's cheeks began to take on a crimson shade as well.

Sharona leaned forward, and said, just loud enough for Lieutenant Disher to hear. "And you, Lieutenant, are a prick."

Randy was rendered speechless until his phone buzzed, and he picked up the receiver. "Lieutenant Disher,' he answered, his face hot with anger and embarrassment.

"Lieutenant, can you ask the front desk if Miss Fleming has arrived. " Captain Stottlemeyer instructed him.

"Yes, sir. She's right here." Randy reported, meekly, not daring to look her in the eye.

"Good. Can you run a background check on her, and send her in."

"Yes, sir." Lt. Disher answered dutifully. If Lt. Disher was nothing else, he was dutiful.

Randy asked for her full name, birthdate, social security number and prior addresses, and she gave him the information which he ran through the computer database, and printed out the background check information.

"Listen, I"m really sorry that I offended you. I wasn't thinking when I said it."

"No, Lieutenant," Sharona Fleming huffed. as she stood "You weren't thinking. That's the problem."

Randy opened the door to the Captain's office, hoping that the meeting would go badly and he would never have to see this woman again.

He was wrong.

The End.

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	7. Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy nice to Sharona: Set during Mr. Monk and the 12th Man.

Lieutenant Randy Disher was already in a foul mood when he pulled into the driveway of the Babcock's opulent home. He had spent almost an hour in a stuffy car, with a broken air conditioner in rush hour traffic with Mrs. Ling, a small vocal Asian woman who owned a dry cleaning business in San Francisco, and who was an expert witness in a multiple murder case.

When Randy went into the shop and asked her about doing business with Mr. Babcock, she seemed very willing to talk to the police. When he told her that she was going to be an expert in a case that Adrian Monk had been working on Mrs. Ling went on a rant about Mister Monk, complaining about his business, his sanity and what a terrible customer he was, until the Lieutenant almost couldn't take it any more.

So when he opened the door to his Ford Crown Vic, he felt refreshed by the rush of fresh air, until he saw Sharona Fleming leaning up against her beater Volvo. Her arms crossed, and she muttering curses under her breath. Her cheeks were flush with anger as she vented; "Who does he think he is." "Son of a bitch." "Nobody talks to me like that." and so on.

Randy could imagine what she was upset about. He didn't miss much when it came to Monk's assistant, not that he intended to be so observant - he couldn't help it. She had gotten under his skin. He knew her track record with men, and noticed certain patterns in that area. Also, as the Captain said, Kenny Shale was a weasel. It was only a matter of time before Sharona would pick up on his weaselhood.

After the questioning, and the arrest, he found her still outside. Mrs. Ling had been long gone, picked up by her son, and she was still there, venting her anger at the Captain's car about that jerk. He listened to her for a moment, his head beginning to pound with the combination of Mrs. Lings droning opinions, the heat of the day and the sun in his eyes. The thought he was beginning to feel a migraine coming on.

Sharona turned and placed both her hands on the hood of the car and repeatedly kicked the tire with the toe of her shoes, "Damn it. Damn it! Damn it….GOD DAMN IT!"

Before getting into his own car, Randy stopped next to her and leaned in, conspiratorially. He opened his mouth to say something , but paused, as if to consider the merit of his input. After a few moments of considering the previous couple of days; Sharona's insults, put downs and her veiled threat to report his disrespectful remarks to her boyfriend, the Deputy Mayor, he said. "He's a jerk. you know." Randy said, softly. "You can do a lot better."

Sharona looked at him, incredulous as Randy drove off without another word.

The End

Thank you for reading. Please Review.


	8. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can Randy apologize for looking at her photos?

Sharona opened her front door to find Lieutenant Randy Disher standing on her front porch. Disher was the last person on earth that she wanted to see at the moment. In fact, she never wanted to see him again.

"What do you want?" She sneered, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"You, uh, didn't answer your phone, and I … uh...do you mind if I come in for a minute?" Randy answered, with a hangdog expression on his face. He had, in his hands a large manilla envelope, which he rubbed, nervously between his fingers.

Sharona stood to one side of the door to let him enter her home, and led him to the kitchen. He took a seat on a stool and put the envelope down on the counter. "How are you doing?"

"I'm quitting."

"Again?" Randy asked, forcing a smile. "Why?"

"Take a wild guess."

The guilty look clouded Randy's face and he lowered his eyes, his fingers traced a figure 8 on the golden paper. Sharona opened her refrigerator and pulled out a beer, opened it and poured some in a glass and angrily put the rest of the bottle on the counter in front of Randy.

"Adrian saw me." Sharona began. after clearing her throat and taking a quick sip of the golden ale. "Larson showed them to him. My boss saw images of me in compromising positions that even my ex hasn't even seen me in."

"Doesn't he have blackouts? Maybe he blocked them out of his mind. " Randy offered, blushing.

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Sharona scoffed.

"Not really," Randy confessed, lamely.

"Randy, Adrian knows a lot about me, but he didn''t know everything. And that was everything I didn't want him to know about me."

"He'll have to deal with it."

"What if he can't." She put her glass down, and put her head in her hands. She was starting to get a headache.

"He'll have to."

"I have to deal with it, too. Damn it, Randy. This isn't just about him, you know. It's about me, too. Those photos were embarrassing. They were never meant to be seen. They were personal. They were private, and the were embarrassing. It was bad enough that the photographer saw me when they were being taken. It was even worse that creep Dexter Larson saw them. It was humiliating that Adrian saw them…"

Randy sat, silenced by her words and his own guilt.

"You saw me, too. That's worse than Adrian seeing them. He didn't choose to see them. And Adrian might mentally block them. It's a possibility. I think I'd believe him if he told me he couldn't remember seeing them. He might do that, because he's my friend." She pulled up the courage to stare Randy down, which wasn't really difficult to do. A crossing guard could probably stare him down.

"But you're not my friend and you won't forget. Why did you do it?" She asked, her voice breaking.

"I had to make sure that the pictures and negatives…"

"Bullshit! Randy, don't lie to me. You could have found a tech who didn't know me."

Randy let Sharonas words sink in, and then admitted, "I don't know...I was curious. I'm sorry."

"Fine, you're sorry. That doesn't really change anything, does it?"

"No. Just so you know, I don't think any less you you."

Sharona's mouth hung open for what seemed like forever, as she stared at him, incredulous. "Did you hear what you just said?"

"Sharona, I'm not very good at this. I don't want you to quit. I hope you don't. Not because I did something stupid that I regret."

Sharona gave him a quietly critical look, Randy handed Sharona the envelope he had been holding onto. "Here."

"What's this?"

"My confessions and most embarrassing moments, captured in my own words and on film. I want you to have them. Maybe it'll even the odds."

Sharona tossed the envelope onto the table, without a second look.

Randy lowered his eyes. "Look. I hope the next time I have to call for Monk that I hear your voice. Please don't quit because I did something thoughtless." He slipped off the stool. "I gotta go. I don't know what else to say, Sharona, except that I'm sorry."

After Randy left, Sharona threw the envelope into the garbage, picked up her phone and dialed.

"Hello, Adrian. I know I told you that I needed tomorrow off, but I think I'll come in tomorrow. Okay, see you then."

The End

Thank you for reading this. Please review.


	9. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Randy's mom dies, his friends come to show their support. (Monk and Natalie make an appearance.)

Randy said he was fine. He had been saying that for a week or so, since he got the news that his mother had been found by a friend, dead. She had had a stroke.

It became the automatic answer to the questions. all similar in nature, which came in like a tsunami from people were trying to show their love and support, but they didn't seem to realize that he heard the same questions dozens of times and that he was tired of hearing it. He was both figuratively and literally tired of the questions.

As he packed up his mother's house, her neighbors had come around in a steady stream. Just as one person was leaving, another would show up on the doorstep bringing casseroles, flowers, cards and their sympathy. Sharona could see it was getting to him. Not that he didn't appreciate what they were doing or why they were doing it, but he felt as if he were drowning in consolation.

Sharona tried to run interference, stopping whatever she was doing, and cutting in to a conversation with a smile and a cup of coffee for the visitor, Randy didn't ask her to do it, neither did he stop her from doing it. He felt relieved when she rushed up to an older man who looked like a slightly goofier Orville Redenbacher, as he approached him with some fresh baked bread and a friendly outstretched hand. Sharona Fleming took the bread and the hand and guided him to a sofa and chatted with him for a short time, before greeting a new visitor with a fresh cup of coffee and a warm smile.

She knew how much Randy's mother had meant to him. Before she left for New Jersey to remarry her ex a few years ago, he was the only woman he regularly talked about. Maria and Randy were close, and she began getting sick before Randy and Sharona started dating.

Randy had invited Sharona to his mother's home to meet her. They had actually met before, on a case, but neither of them were sure that Maria would believe that the crazy alcoholic who was "married" to a boring mop salesman named Adrian Monk was the current love of her son's life.

The three of them talked over lunch in the backyard one pleasant afternoon. Even then, though Randy told Sharona that Maria was doing much better, she seemed frail. Randy had to carry her dishware to the patio table, while Sharona helped Maria to the table. Maria's hands shook a little when she picked up a porcelain tea cup, but she kept hold of it.

When she talked about her son, her face lit up and her eyes brightened. She was so proud of Randy, and Randy was devoted to his mother.

-R/S-

The doorbell rang and Sharona took a look around to see where Randy was. He was in the kitchen looking out the window to the backyard, lost in his thoughts. It was Natalie, with a casserole, and Monk, carrying a large box, which was neatly wrapped. It was a case of wipes. Adrian's go to gift for any occasion. Yes, even death.

"Sharona! I didn't even know you were in town!" Natalie exclaimed when she saw Sharona at the door, as she gave her a quick hug.

"I took a couple of days off and flew in when I heard. I was hoping I could help out. I'm sure he'll appreciate you coming by."

"How is he doing?" Natalie asked, leaning in, conspiratorially, as Adrian put the box down, and picked up some dirty dishes which were left around the house. He bussed the dishes back into the kitchen and began filling a sink with water.

Randy was standing next to him, aware that he was there but still silent, as Adrian removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

"He's quiet." Sharona whispered. keeping an eye on Monk and Randy. "He's never quiet unless he's sleeping, and even then it's hit and miss. Come on. I'm sure he wants to see you."

As they walked into the kitchen, Monk was hand washing dishes, which Randy was loading into the dishwasher. Both of them were silent and task oriented.

"Hey, Sweetie. I'm sorry to hear about your mother. How are you doing?" Natalie asked.

Randy rolled his eyes, sighed and said. "I'm fine."

"Oh, Sweetie. I'm so sorry." Natalie said before giving him a patented Natalie Teeger deluxe hug. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. It was warm and loving and felt just like a hug from his mother. After a few moments of enduring the loving hug, and pretending it didn't effect him, in the hope that he could get away and hide in another room and wait for everyone else to go away. Then he stopped resisting the hug and melted into it. Randy sobbed into Natalie's neck like a child. He unconcerned by what anyone else thought of the scene, and released the grief that he had been holding inside

Monk looked sidelong at Sharona, who was holding back tears herself, and said, "She's good."

-R/S-

It was late when their last condolence caller left, and thanks to Adrian Monk, the house was cleaner than it had ever been. The food had been wrapped and put into the refrigerator for another day of packing up his mother's house.

Randy sat at the big dining room table nursing a headache and felt a little nauseous when Sharona brought out a plate of food, and a drink. They watched the rain in silence, as it drizzled down the kitchen window. It was almost hypnotic.

"You haven't eaten anything all day." Sharona said, caressing Randy's tense back.

"I'm not hungry." He said, quietly, looking over the eclectic collection of food on his plate and thinking of the many hands that had lovingly prepared the food. Some had come from parishioners at her church, some from neighbors, and some from people she had worked with and a few had come from Randy's friends and co-workers, but they were all thinking of Maria when they made it.

"You should try to eat something," Sharona said, handing him a set of silverware and napkins that had been left out during the packing, and taking a chair next to him. "Maria would want you to…"

"Sharona," He put down the silverware, turned to her and took his hands in his. "I feel guilty. I feel -so- guilty. I know that, wherever mom is, she's in a better place. I know she believed in that stuff, and I hope that wherever she is, she's happy and not in pain. But I feel so guilty because of what I did. "

"What did you do?"

"She asked me to visit her the week before she died. I told her I couldn't. I said that I had to work, and that Mrs. Carson would come by and check on her, and I said I would stop by next weekend...and...then she died. She had a stroke, and...I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye."

Sharona leaned in and hugged him, stroking his hair "It's okay. You didn't know."

"But I knew she was sick, and I didn't even try. I mean, you flew across the country. You dropped everything and flew across the country to help me, and I didn't even bother to drive 10 miles to see my sick mother. What kind of person does that make me?"

"Randy, I flew across the country because someone we both love died. I would not have flown across the country to have lunch with you. That's the difference. If I told you that my mom was dying, or that something happened to Benjy or Gail, or even Trevor, you'd drop everything and support us, wouldn't you?"

"Well, maybe not for Trevor, but I can see what you're getting at." He answered, snorting as he chuckled, then stabbed a Jell-O cube. It was green and had some sort of fruit in it. He held it up and inspected the cube as he thought of how to phrase his next question.

While Randy was inspecting a Jell-O cube, Sharona got up from the table and checked the coffee pot, and saw there was enough in it for one small cup for herself, so she poured it into a cup it and put it in the microwave.

"Sharona. How would you feel about us living together?"

"What do you have in mind?" Sharona asked, sipping the reheated coffee.

"Well, I was thinking maybe you could move back to San Francisco," Randy began, as he toyed with a mushy green bean casserole, and finding that it did not look appetizing at all, "or I could move to New Jersey. We don't have to settle for California or Jersey, either. We could go anywhere."

"Really?" Sharona asked, incredulous.

"We could meet somewhere in the middle. Maybe Nebraska."

"Nebraska. I've never thought about living there. I've never thought of Nebraska at all." Sharona reached over and grasped Randy's hand. "Why the sudden urge to uproot one or both of our lives, and move across the country? Not that I'm opposed to the idea."

"I want to be with you. I really don't care where we live. We can both look and find the best situation for both of us. I just don't want to spend my life so far away from the one person I love the most in the world. I want to see you every day, and every chance I can."

"Oh, Randy." Sharona smiled and taking his face in her hands, leaned in and kissed him. "I love you."

He took her left hand and kissed the back of it. "Is that a yes."

"Of course. You can look on the West Coast, and I'll look on the East Coast..."

"Who gets Nebraska?" Randy asked.

"The good people of Nebraska." Sharona answered.

End.


	10. Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy is caught looking at Sharona's legs.

There was something about her. Whether she was annoying him, or intriguing him, she was always uppermost in his mind. He always noticed her. He was aware of her; of what shey was saying or doing. He noticed who she was talking to, or when she was talking about him. He was captivated by everything about her. Her hair, her eyes her smile. He noticed the way she walked, talked, stood and dressed.

He often found himself staring at her. Not intentionally, but she was usually loud, brassy, brusque and very noticeable. It seemed everything she said and did was meant to draw attention to herself, and he wondered if that was intentional.

She was wearing a miniskirt, high heeled boots and dark pantyhose, and Randy, naturally, considered himself a leg man. He was supposed to be taking notes, but his eye was drawn by her anxiously tapping toe, which was encased in a boot, which was attached to long lovely legs. Her arms were crossed, and she was monitoring her employer and friend, Adrian Monk, from afar as he worked his observational magic.

If needed, Sharona was ready to step in and calm, focus and the direct the older man with soothing touches, a listening ear or a well administered dose of tough love. She stared the morning standing near her boss as he worked, but as he was more focused on the evidence, he was more in his element and forgot that his nurse and assistant was there. And so, as time passed, Randy had found that Sharona had removed herself from the busiest part of the crime scene and let the various law enforcement officers do their job. While Monk was engrossed in his minutia of evidence on the crime scene, the Lieutenant was just as focused on Sharona's legs.

His gaze flitted from his notes to her legs several times when, suddenly, Sharona's attention was focused on Lieutenant Disher, and not in the way he wanted it to be. No, it was more like a target sight right before the trigger was pulled.

"What are you lookin' at?" Sharona asked, her New Jersey as thick as her ire.

Randy just stood there, dumbstruck.

"Are you lookin' at my legs?" She snapped.

Randy leaned in and said, quietly with an amiable smile, "You've got nice legs. It makes that skirt look great."

He meant it to be a complement, but it reamark elicited the opposite response.

"Do you think that because I'm wearing a miniskirt, that i want you staring at my legs?" Sharona's voice growing more hostile with every word. He wasn't sure why she was upset with him. Maybe her kid got an "F" in school. Maybe she got dumped. Maybe she just hated him. It was hard to tell. "What is wrong with you? Don't you understand I'm not just a nice pair of legs and T and A! Don't you realized that I have feelings and a mind? I'm a person." Sharona vented her frustration at Randy.

"Sharona, I just…" Randy was flustered by the outburst and also by the realization of what this was probably about. He felt sorry for her, and for what she must be feeling. He figured the best course of action was to retreat to his notebook and try to negotiate a truce later. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more considerate."

Sharona considered him for a moment, clearly as shocked as she was at the outburst. She damned Brian, her future ex boyfriend, in her mind and noted that she was going to give him the same little speech she gave Randy. Her face softened, and she managed an embarrassed smile. "Thanks, Randy."

"Sharona,' The Captain called from a distance waving his arm to attract her attention. Monk was standing nearby, looking up into the sky for some reason, with his left hand hooded over his eyes, and a pained expression on his face. "Monk needs you over here."

"I'm coming." Sharona called to Captain Stottlemeyer jogging the strap of her huge purse over her shoulder as she strode across the manicured lawn of a city park. Randy watched her walk away for a moment, before putting the notebook into his jacket pocket and walking beside her.

"You know, it annoys me when people gawk at my amazing body, too," Randy quipped, as they reached the crime scene.

End

A/N Please review this story if you like it.

Thank you.


	11. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Sharona decides that she might be happier with her ex? Featuring Leland Stottlemeyer and Adrian Monk

“Lieutenant,” Captain Stottlemeyer, holding a cell phone to his ear, called to his second in command. ”I can’t get a hold of Sharona. Did she change her number or something?” 

Randy was writing something on the paper in his faux leather jotter, but it wasn’t anything to do with the crime. Just unfocused doodles. His mind was not on his work. 

“Randy!” the Captain barked, annoyance clear in his voice, and stance and the way he clenched a toothpick between his teeth, “I need you to call Sharona. We need Monk on this one.”

“Sharona won’t be coming.” 

“Why not? Did she quit again?” 

Randy looked the captain in the eye, but averted his gaze when the guilt overtook him. 

R/S 

The rain pelted the sidewalk in a steady rhythm, whetting the streets in front of her house, turning them pitch black, with the light from the street lamps illuminated in the puddles. Randy ran up several steps, pulling his trench coat around him and wishing he had grabbed an umbrella. He pushed the button for the doorbell and took a quick glance round the doorway until Sharona opened the front door. 

“Thanks for coming”, she said, ushering him into her home. She had already started on a bottle of red wine. “I really don’t know who else to talk to, but I need some advice, and I think I can trust you with this.”

“Really?” Randy asked, slightly taken back by the admission, but he tried not to show it. ”Why don’t you ask Monk?” 

“I know him. I know what he’ll say,”

“Okay, shoot. No pun intended,” Randy snickered.

“What pun?” 

Randy pointed to his piece.

“Oh.” She humored him with a smile, and offered him a place on the couch to sit and some wine. “Listen Randy, this is personal and private, so I need you to keep this to yourself.”

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I’m leaving.” 

“For how long?“ Randy asked. Remembering that she had recently taken a short time off to take care of her mother, who had broken her wrist. 

“For good.” 

Randy sputtered on his sip of wine, and began to cough. Sharona handed him a paper napkin and let him cough, but continued talking so she didn’t have to say it again. 

“I’m moving back to New Jersey, and if things work out the way we hope, Trevor and I are planning to get married again.” 

Randy having quickly recovered from his coughing fit, stared silently with his hand covering the the wine stained white napkin which covered his mouth. 

“Benjy is so excited. He went to Jersey a week ago.” 

“So, you’ve made your decision. Why do you want to talk to me.” 

“I just want to be sure I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. If I leave, and it doesn’t work out, I will have hurt Adrian, I will feel like a giant bitch and I will regret it for the rest of my life, and if I stay and I miss out on a wonderfully normal family life, I will resent Adrian and will feel like a bad parent and regret it for the rest of my life.

“So, either way you’ll be miserable and regret it for the rest of your life,” Randy joked. 

“That’s not funny” she answered with a wan smile, and hit him with a throw pillow. 

“Will being with Trevor make you happy?”

“I think so.” She said, then she bit her lower lip, and admitted, “I don’t know. I really think he’s changed. He wants to be there for Benjy.” She took another sip of wine and continued, “But he’s also a terrific liar...Gawd, this could all be a way to impress that uncle of his.” 

“What uncle?” Randy asked. 

“Never mind. It’s a long story.” 

Her phone started to ring, and she sat still, staring at it. 

“Are you going to answer that?” 

“It’s Adrian. He’s been calling all night.” 

The phone continued to ring. 

“You’ve made your decision. How are you going to tell Monk “

"I don’t know. Do you think you could…?”

“No!” Randy said incredulously, and then after a few moments, he continued. “Sharona, I hardly know the man.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve known him for years.” 

“I’ve worked with him for years. I don’t know him.” 

“Never mind.” Sharona finally conceded, “Gail said she’d check on him for a while. Randy, I'm pretty sure I’m just a crutch to him. I know that Adrian can do more than believes he can. This will end up being for the best.” 

“I hope so,” Randy answered. 

R/S 

“You let her leave!?” Stottlemeyer fumed as they walked up the walk to Monk’s apartment building, with Randy at his side.

“I didn’t “let” her do anything, Captain.” Randy answered, in self defense. “She wanted to leave, so she left.” 

“And you didn’t tell anyone? You didn’t call Dr. Kroger?! You should have at least told me! ”

Knocking on the door, he turned to Randy, who could only offer, “She told me to keep it to myself.” 

“Listen, son, I know that you had a thing for Sharona, but I never thought that thing would override your common sense.” The Captain muttered. "You should have told someone. What if he’s taken a turn for the worse? What if he’s hurt? What if he hurt himself?” Stottlemeyer asked pointedly as he then pounded on the door. “Monk, it’s Leland, OPEN THE DOOR!” 

A few moments later, Adrian Monk came to the door wearing an apron, rubber gloves and carrying a disinfectant spray and a sponge. The Captain pushed his way into Monk’s apartment, followed by Randy. 

Randy began walking around the apartment, curious, while the Captain tried to console his old friend and partner. Monk’s apartment was immaculate, as It usually was, but this time all the windows and shades were opened, filling the large apartment with light and fresh air. The house had been scrubbed clean, and every item in every drawer, cupboard and closet had been removed and stacked in the rooms they were kept in. Even Trudy’s pictures had come down from the wall. It was as if the former detective had been taking an inventory of everything in his house, making sure everything was there. 

“Have you talked to Sharona yet?” The Captain asked.

After seeing Adrian Monk, so lost and alone, Randy felt like he had betrayed one person in order to help another. He didn’t consider either of them to be close friends. Sharona was someone he was attracted to, but it was one sided. He knew that now. He liked her as a person. He liked her son, too, and wished them well. All he ever wanted was for her to be happy, and if her happiness was on the other side of the country with another man, then so be it. 

And Monk was someone he had worked with through the years, and had developed an admiration for, but he wouldn’t consider the older man a friend. They worked together, and he had some insight into his life due to his proximity to the Captain on the Trudy Monk case, but he was only an observer in Mr. Monk’s tragic life. And, now he felt like an intruder in the older man’s home, and that he was partially responsible for creating this organized chaos, - this meticulous disaster in Adrian Monk’s life. 

As the Captain asked Monk questions, Randy couldn’t bear to listen to the need in Monk’s empty tone, or the older man's plea for someone to care for him and focus him and keep his phobias and compulsions in check, as was his insistence that Sharona Fleming was the only person in the world who could do that, and she run away from him, as has everyone he cared about; his father, his wife, his mother and so on.... 

Guilt caused Randy to block out the older man’s answers to his partner’s questions. Leaning against the dining room table, straightening his tie, adjusting the shield on his belt, checking the safety on his gun; anything so that he could be distracted from the exchange between the Captain and Monk. While he was busy adjusting his clothing and his detectives paraphernalia, he spotted some mail overflowing Monk’s mail slot, and pulled it out. He shuffled through the junk mail and business envelopes and spotting an envelope with Benjy Howe’s name scrawled at the top, and the return address in Newark, New Jersey. 

“What about Dr. Kroger?” the Captain asked. “What does he suggest?”

He handed Monk the stack of mail, and the older man stood, walked over to his writing desk and put it on a stack with more unopened letters, not even glancing at the letter on the top. Randy wondered how deeply the denial ran. 

“Okay, buddy.” The Captain finally said, gently gripping the older man on the shoulder as Randy made a beeline for the door. “We’ll be in touch.” 

As soon as the deadbolt clicked over, Stottlemeyer ran his hand over his face, letting out a dejected sigh. “Come on, Lieutenant, we’ve got to get back to. Hopefully we’ll be able to solve this one without Monk.” 

“I’m really sorry, Captain,” Lt. Disher said, sincerely. 

“I know, Randy. Hey, do you think you can put an ad in the paper for a replacement for Sharona?”

“Yes, sir.” Randy answered. “But I doubt anyone could really replace Sharona.” 

“You might be right about that.” The Captain smiled. “Despite the way she left, I think I’m going to miss her.” 

The End.  
Please review. And check out chapter 2 of Mr. Monk Saves the Date, which was published earlier this week.


	12. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy and Sharona warm up on a cold day.

Warm

by Disherona

Sharona allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in late and was awakened, not by the intrusive and grating sound of her alarm clock, but by the combination of the brightness of the of the sun rays coming through the window, and intensified by the reflection of the accumulated snow from the night before; and the sound of children laughing and squealing with glee; and Randy Disher, the new Police Chief of Summit New Jersey, laughter, exertion, and occasional proclamations of surprise or pain from the cold and exertion of playing in the snow.

Sharona luxuriated in the warmth and comfort of the pillow top queen sized bed, and beneath a heavy comforter. She stirred slowly, stretching like a cat. She could have stayed in bed all day. After much contemplation she finally decided to rise, and took a quick, hot shower and then slipped into her favorite sweater, a light blue grey boat neck sweater with long sleeves and seven pearl buttons that went down the back. It reminded her of winter, and it was extremely soft, and oddly enough, it was a gift from the husband she had divorced twice. She paired the sweater with some black leggings and a short flouncy skirt

Sharona planned to do nothing but read a novel all day. She had been reading a series of novels for some time, although she could have easily read it on a tablet, Sharona felt like she wanted to experience the pleasure of a physical book; feeling the paper, turning physical pages, rather than the cold, electronic book. She contented herself with relaxing on the overstuffed sofa, basking in the warmth of the gas fireplace and continued the rather spicy romance novel while she sipped a warming cup of rich hot chocolate.

The front door of the Craftsman style house opened suddenly. Squeals and laughter from children playing outside could be heard, as Randy called out, "Great job on the snowmen. We'll make a snow fort later."

His cheeks were pink and windburned, offset by the stubble of the morning growth of beard, and his earlobes, which protruded from a wool cap, were numb from the cold.

"Okay, Chief Randy!" the small voice of one of the children called back, and seconds later a snowball pelted Disher in the chest, followed by more children's laughter, as the group of children ran off to their own homes.

After closing the door, Randy brushed the still clinging snow off of his jacket and began removing his protective winter clothing, hanging up his coat, and pulling off his boots.

"I can't feel my fingers," Randy, blew into his hands and rubbed them together to encourage warmth and blood circulation into his frozen digits.

"I know that you are still new to Jersey, but you need to wear your gloves when you're playing in the snow." Sharona explained, pouring a mug of hot chocolate, which she handed to her lover, as he was hanging a thick wool scarf on a coatrack in the entryway, Sharona caressed Randy's cheek and gave him a quick kiss, noting that he hadn't shaved yet. Not that she minded. She liked him to look rugged from time to time.

"I wasn't playing in the snow," he started. "I was shoveling the sidewalk."

"And then the neighborhood children came and you made snowmen with them," Sharona finished.

"Yeah." Randy smiled sweetly, "It was fun, though. I think the kids had fun."

"Did the sidewalk get shoveled?" Sharona asked.

"Yes. The kids helped. And we shoveled Mr. Oakley's sidewalk."

"Across the street? That was nice of you." Sharona linked her arm with Randy and she led him to the sofa.

"Well, I know you've been checking on him."

They sat together on the sofa, Sharona reading her paperback novel, and Randy sipping his hot chocolate. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

"Oh, you're cold." Sharona teased.

"I'm feeling warmer." He answered, as he caressed and kissed her until she was no longer interested in her romance novel.

End

A/N I am still working on Saves the Date and Return.

Please, please, please review. Let me know if you have any ideas for this series.


	13. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy writes a song for the woman he loves, and reminisces about another love: Music

Song 

By Disherona 

He strummed his acoustic guitar, trying to match the notes that were resonating in his spirit, and the lyrics that repeated in his mind. 

Sitting on the sofa in his man cave, with a cold drink and his a legal pad laid open on the table, a #2 pencil clenched between his teeth and a white pearlized pick in his right hand, he strummed, and hummed. He made notes and and corrected them. He was in the process of writing a new song for the woman he loved. 

He knew his music wasn’t comparable to Mozart, or even Nickleback, and his lyrics weren’t in the same league as Shakespeare. Not even close, but he was passionate about the music he wrote. He wrote songs out of an overflow of what he was feeling, and his feelings ran deeper than people knew. He knew people thought his music was amateurish, and his lyrics mundane, but both were genuine and he wanted to share them.

It was an obsession for him. It was the loadstone of his memories, feelings, passions and was the therapy to help him work through his feelings. Music was the one thing he could go back to as a means of expressing himself, distracting himself, and sometimes consoling himself

His mind wandered to the affection he had always had for music. When he was young his house was full of music. His father and sister would accompany each other on guitar and sing together while he colored in a picture in a Scooby Doo coloring book and his mother prepared dinner for the family. It was a happy time for him, and he treasured those memories. 

Emily died at the age of 15. She was hit by a car when she was riding her bike over to tell Randy to come home. On that day the music was silenced. His father stopped playing altogether and got angry with Randy when his son asked him to show him how to play the guitar, or to sing with him. The guitars were put up in the attic, and shortly afterward, his father packed his bags and moved out of the house. Randy was 8. 

A few months before he turned 12, Randy asked his mom if he could take up an instrument. He wanted to learn to play some of the songs he heard on the radio, or saw on MTV. 

Maria Disher was thrilled a the idea of Randy playing a musical instrument, and offered to bring down his sister's guitar. “I think Emily would have wanted you to have it.”

Randy rolled his eyes in the way that pre-teens do, and answered defiantly. “I don’t want that old thing. I want an electric guitar.” 

“I think that might be a little too expensive, Randy.” Maria said, apologetically. 

“I can earn the money,” Randy offered. And he could. He was a hard worker and was good at saving for the things that he wanted. 

“If you want a new guitar, you have to learn to play an instrument.” Maria caught her son’s attention, and continued, “If you do that, I promise, I will find a way to get you a guitar.” 

Randy surprised his mother by taking piano lessons. His mother thought it might have been because he wanted to learn the basics of music which could be transferred and applied to several instruments, but it was actually because he thought that the piano teacher was pretty, and wanted to spend time with her. 

In the 8th grade, he joined the school band. He played the flute and marched in parade formation with 79 other students who were some of the most real, the most fun and the nerdiest people in Macallan Jr. High, and Randy fit right in with them. 

Around the time he turned 17, he dropped out of the marching band and started his own rock band, The Randy Disher Project. It began as an impromptu band, born out of necessity when his Eagle Scout service project was looming near, and out of desperation he coordinated some classmates, some of whom he knew, and some he knew by reputation of being musical, or at least having access to a musical instrument and a sense of rhythm. 

The official name of the group was The Randy Disher Eagle Scout Service Project to Refurbish the Music Room of JFK High School. 

He formed the band and presented a service project by which they would put on a show in order to raise money and buy supplies to refurbish the school’s music room, which was had been in disrepair for some time. Rehearsal usually consisted of planning for their big break and dreaming about fame, fortune and groupies while they tuned their instruments, and occasionally practiced a song or two. 

Much of the discussion revolved around changing the name to reflect the personality of the group and the style of music they would play. Due to the fact that the members of the group could never agree on a name, it remained “The Randy Disher Project” for the year or so that they practiced together, until the young men moved on to different directions in their lives. 

So, Randy Disher; music nerd from San Diego, turned frontman for a service project rock band, turned Detective in the San Francisco Police Department, turned newly sworn in police chief of Summit, New Jersey - was happy with his life. He lived in a nice community and was with the woman of his dreams. Life was good, and he wanted to express it in a song.

Unfortunately, there were very few words that rhymed with Sharona, unless he just added “na” to the words at the end of a verse. He knew he had it in him to make the song work, even if he had to shoehorn a rhyme into the last chorus, so he strummed and he hummed and he rocked and he wrote. 

Sharona was standing in the doorway, listening. “That song sounds familiar.”

“No, it’s new. You wanna hear what I have so far?” Randy asked, his expression was that of the open hopefulness that it usually held. 

“Of course,” Sharona answered, smiling in anticipation.

Randy began strumming again, rocking to the rhythm of his music as if he were in a religious trance. This went on for some time. He strummed, picked, and thumped the side of his guitar in what was perhaps the longest song intro in history, although the intro to last years’ “Happy Birthday” serenade came in at a close second. 

Sharona settled in next to Randy, a hot mug of tea between her hands, warming them, and she listened with appreciation, and noted that Randy had thrown himself completely into the song. When they became a couple, she realized that she would have to resign herself to the idea that most of the things that Randy did, he did with that same enthusiasm. 

She also realized that, like herself, Randy wasn’t much concerned with what others thought of him. He was the most genuine person she had ever known, and she loved him for that, and didn't mind that the song he was currently serenading her with sounded a lot like “Lola” by the Kinks. 

The End 

A/N I’m still working on Saves the Date, (new chapter underway) and Return of SF (new chapter underway) 

Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback. :)


	14. Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randy is comforted after a bad day.

by Disherona 

She could tell as soon as he walked through the door that it had been a bad day. He looked exhausted, and his eyes pained, a tell that he was suffering from the beginnings of a headache. She greeted him at the door with a gentle smile, holding cup of hot chamomile tea, and bestowing on him a sweet kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

She took his warm coat and leather briefcase, hanging the coat and putting the briefcase on the hall table. She brought him some Migraine Excedrin, and a glass of room temperature water. 

She led him to the couch, removed his shoes and his put his feet up, she left him sipping the hot beverage and went upstairs to the master bath. 

He heard the water running, gushing, he imagined it was steaming hot, and an aroma, spicy, like cinnamon or cloves and an earthy scent. The refurbished old claw footed tub, similar to one he remembered at his grandmother’s house, was filling as delicate hands expertly agitated the suds. 

His eyelids grew heavy, and he wanted to close them. Just for a second, as the sound of soft music and rushing water lulled him to sleep.

And he remembered.

Uniformed police officers cleared every room, and found carnage. In a closet in the living room, they found her. She ws seven years old. She wore bright pink ribbons in her braided hair. Her little shorts and a bright white blouse had become stained, splattered with red. She was confused and scared when the uniformed officers came through the house, shouting, kicking open doors, carrying guns.

She had seen everything. She saw the bad people come in, and recognized some of them. They had come in yelling and screaming, pushing and hitting. Making demands of her mother and older brother. They carried guns, as well. And they used them. 

If they had known she was there, she may not have survived, but she didn’t betray her presence. Instead, she crawled into the coat closet as quietly as she could, and hid. She was silent. Her tears streamed down her dark cheeks when she heard the commotion, first from the bad peolpe, and then from the police men.

Randy was the first to spot her, and for some reason, she stood up and ran to him, burying her small face in his chest and cried, and he held her, trying to comfort her. He realized, eventually, that holding her was the most he could do for her. There was nothing else he could do. 

Randy felt his head begin to fall forward, and his grip loosened on the mug. The cup fell to the floor and the liquid pooled on the hardwood floor. 

“Damn it.” He put his head in his hands, and let the curse slip, quietly. 

‘Randy! Are you okay?” She rushed to get a tea-towel, and was already cleaning up the mess. “Hey, I’ll take care of this.” She gave a half-hearted smile, and touched his cheek with a delicate hand. “Why do you get into the bath. Okay?” 

He took her hand and kissed her wrist, then stood and walked up to the bathroom. 

The tub was full of bubbles, and the air was heavily scented. The lights in the bathroom were dimmed, and the stereo in the bedroom was loud enough to be heard in the master bath. It felt relaxing. 

Randy knew that Sharona liked a nice soak after a hard day, and he would prepare a tub for her on occasion, though he never felt like he needed a bubble bath. Al least not since the “Mr. Bubble” days of his youth. 

After several minutes, Sharona came in with his bathrobe. “Feeling better?” 

Randy grunted. He had leaned back in the tub, with a hot towel over his eyes, inhaling the perfumed air. He removed the towel that covered his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just one of those days.” 

“You wanna talk about it?” Sharona asked, sitting on the edge of the tub 

He didn’t answer, but his eyes spoke those things he wasn’t able to. She understood. She had the same experience in her career. Both had seen and experienced things that were beyond words. 

She stood and leaned over to kiss his cheek, near his ear, “I’ll start dinner. You let me know if you need anything.”

He grasped her wrist as she pulled away from him.

“There was a shooting today in the Mission district. Gang related. There was only one survivor. She lost her entire family. She saw everything. Her name is Zoe, and she’s 7 years old.” 

He couldn’t say any more. Sharona leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry.”

They didn’t talk any more about his day. He just had to get it out. To say the words out loud. 

Randy finished soaking in the tub, then they had a quiet dinner, then cleaned the dishes and spent the rest of the night on the couch, watching old movies late into the night, and finally drifting off to sleep.


	15. Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalie receives a call which worried her.

“Lieutenant Disher!” Adrian Monk's spunky new assistant called and motioned for him to come to her. 

 

Randy Disher, looked up from his meticulous notes consisting of his own observations, and also whatever Adrian Monk, formerly of the SFPD homicide division, had uttered. It couldn’t hurt, because the man was never wrong, so anything the older man had mentioned, even in an offhand way, was probably worth more than all of the observations that every detective on the field had noted in their little notebooks with their ballpoint pens. 

 

Though Natalie Teeger, or “the new girl” as he and most of the uniformed officers and detectives had called her, had been working for Monk for several weeks, she was still learning her craft as his assistant. She was his driver and wipe hander. She helped him shop, and pay his bills and sometimes acted as a companion, and regularly took care of the “dirty jobs” while they were working on a murder case.. She was getting to know him and his quirks, and was getting to like and respect her new boss. She learned techniques to divert her boss's attention when things got sticky or icky or just mis-matched, and she had to do it her own way. And it was on the job training. No one was there to teach her the job. 

 

Randy was getting used to her, as well. At least he was feeling less annoyed by her. Not by her, per say, but by the fact that she was not Sharona. He had become fond of Monks first assistant, but she left Monk unexpectedly to remarry her ex-husband, moving herself and her teenaged son across the country to live. 

 

He had expected Natalie to be a lot like Sharona, as had everyone,else. Including Monk. They were all learning that she wasn’t Sharona. 

Randy had overheard Monk say, “that’s not how Sharona did it,” on more than one occasion, and Natalie, although understandably hurt and probably annoyed, gently reminded him that she was not Sharona, and that he would have to get used to it. 

 

Randy looked around to see who was looking and noticed that no one was noticing him, which was normal, and casually strode over to where Natalie stood, with a worried expression on her face and her cell phone in her hand. 

 

“What’s up?” Randy asked, closing his notebook and putting that and his pen in an inside breast pocket of his off the rack jacket. 

 

“I’ve been getting some strange calls on this phone, Lieutenant,” Natalie began, 

 

Randy cocked his head and squinted to get a better look at the number on her cell phone through the glare of the sunlight. He didn’t recognize it, but he knew it wasn’t a California number. 

 

“It’s probably a wrong number?” Randy said, with unearned certainty.

 

“Whoever it is, they’ve called 4 times, and hang up a few seconds after I answer.” She began. “I’m a little worried.” 

 

“Do you think it might be a stalker or something?” Randy asked, concerned. 

 

“Not necessarily.” Natalie hugged herself, against the cooling San Francisco weather, “ but I am worried.”

 

“Show me the number again.” 

Randy pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number and waited as it rang once, twice, three times; before someone finally answered, and the voice on the other end pierced his heart. A nostalgic flood of memories. A voice from the past. 

 

“Hey, how are you doing?” Randy asked. “Yeah, it’s Randy. I guess I’m calling to remind you why you left.” He smiled. “Just kidding, your number popped up on Monk’s cell phone, and Natalie was confused.” He paused for a moment. “Okay, I’ll let her know.” He paused again, and smiled at Natalie. “ Shaorna, you don’t have to worry about Monk. He’s fine. She’s perfect. Did you want to talk to Natalie?” Another pause. “What about Monk.” Okay, well, say hi to Benjy for us.” He paused again. “I miss you, too. Take care of yourself. Bye.” 

 

When he closed his phone, he saw Natalie briefly dab her eyes. 

 

“Are you okay,” the young lieutenant asked, concerned,

 

“I’m fine.” She sniffed and smiled. “I thought she wanted her old job back.” A nervous laugh escaping.” I’m so glad she doesn’t” 

 

“That job is yours, Miss Teeger.” 

 

“Call me Natalie, please.” 

 

“And you can call me Randy.” 

 

The moment was broken by the sound of Adrian Monk calling “Natalie!” Monk was shielding his eyes from a fate worse than death - a spaghetti sauce stain on the suspects tie. 

 

“I’m coming, Mr. Monk,” Natalie called, as she rushed to her boss to do her job.


End file.
